


Omovember Day 26

by AllThingsGeeky



Series: Omovember 2019 [26]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Being a superhero is dangerous business, Broken Bones, IDEK man gah, Injury, Major Injury, Mild medical speak, Omorashi, Omovember, Omovember Day 26, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:47:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21577048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThingsGeeky/pseuds/AllThingsGeeky
Summary: Peeing on the floor
Series: Omovember 2019 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533119
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	Omovember Day 26

Peeing on the floor 

“Hawk, you got visuals?”

“Roger that. Upper east side, scaling the eight floor.” Clint replied calmly into his mic. He’d been stationed on the rooftop for four hours now, there having been zero action in all that time. He was bored, but not bored enough to where it would affect his concentration on the task at hand. Years of rigorous training meant his body was ready to respond way before his mind was- meaning he could think about what Laura was making for dinner and what colour they were going to paint the baby’s room without worrying about getting himself killed. 

“Perfect, clear shot?”

“Yup. Couldn’t ask for better.” He hummed boredly.

“On your mark, C.” 

Within twelve minutes the sniper had taken down sixteen men without being spotted and he was lining up for his seventeenth. “Right I’ve gotten- OW FUCK!” 

“What?! What what what- what happened?!” Steve called worriedly over the mic when the archers line went dead after an ear piercing electrical screech.“Clint! What happened?!” 

Tony didn’t bother communicating over the comms line- he dropped what he was doing and sped over to Clint’s coordinates. Before he even landed he could see the archer sprawled on the floor, in an alley between the two buildings he’d been stationed on and his leg..was not at a good angle. “He’s down.” 

Steve continued to prattle on over the mic but Tony muted him, simply sending over their coordinates for the blond to follow. As Tony raced over he initially thought that Clint was unconscious as there was a considerable amount of blood near his head; but as he drew nearer he heard the man groan. 

“Shit.” Tony muttered as he crouched beside him. Shit was an understatement; Clint’s leg was very clearly broken, to the point his shattered shinbone had perforated his skin and was bleeding heavily. The entire right side of Clint’s face was bloody but Tony couldn’t tell if multiple or a singular wound was the culprit. As he went to move his head to find out Clint’s eyes opened fully and the archer attempted to punch him- making Tony fall backwards. “Alright alright chill-“

“Don’t touch me.” Clint growled- or at least he attempted to. It came out more as a strangled groan as he tried to sit up unaided. He refused Tony’s help to sit up and the billionaire didn’t try again, knowing from experience that Clint didn’t take too kindly to it.

“I’m not gonna, can you stand?” Tony asked quietly after a moment. He already knew the answer, but he also knew Clint’s temper and he didn’t want to risk angering the severely injured man in case he hurt himself more. 

But Clint just shook his head, which Tony found surprising. It would’ve been typical for Clint to try and insist that he was perfectly okay; the man had been known to fight for hours with severe injuries, like that time he’d stayed out in the field for an additional seven hours after being shot...twice. So for him to actually admit that he needed assistance was surprising; and highly concerning. He must’ve been in some real pain to admit to it. 

Tony nodded militantly, looping his arm up and around the other man’s waist to support him as he dragging him up; requiring minimal effort thanks to the suit. He made a point not to make a big deal out of Clint needing his assistance, knowing how hard it was for the archer to accept it in the first place. 

But as soon as he was upright Clint let out a silent scream and almost collapsed again, clenching his injured leg with the hand that wasn’t draped over Tony's shoulder. It was bleeding even more heavily, but there wasn’t much Tony could do in ways of first aid yet; they were in the middle of a battle zone, his main priority was to get Clint to a safe location first. “Okay- Nat, is Bruce-“

“Look behind you.” Nat sighed over the mic, knowing what Tony was going to ask. He was about to request medical assistance but Tony looked over his shoulder to see Hulk tearing up the place. Ah. 

“Right, okay.” Tony sighed. That was that option exhausted then. “Cap, need you over here stat.” 

Steve got over to them in two minutes. Despite his quick pace by the time he got over to them, Clint’s condition had deteriorated considerably. The agent was slumped leaning up against a wall where he’d thrown himself after Tony tried to pick him up. His breathing was raspy, his face was grey and his eyes kept rolling back. 

“Oh dear.”

“Yes Steven, oh dear- now will you help me set his leg  _ please.”  _ Tony growled menacingly, growing frustrated with the lack of immediate action from his blond counterpart. 

“Right, yes right, sorry.” Steve blinked a few times and shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. They’d been trained for this, after all, trained to work under extreme pressure in highly volatile situations; but like Tony, Steve was rather shocked to see Clint accepting help- he didn’t look thrilled but he also wasn’t fighting them tooth and nail. But Steve quickly recovered and crouched down beside him too, following the scans JARVIS was conducting, guiding them to what attention Clint needed first.

But as soon as they set about putting a tourniquet on his leg Clint let out a groan. “I’m gonna pass out.” 

“No you’re not, deep breaths in through your nose out of your-“ Tony started calmly, but as soon as he saw Clint’s eyes roll into the back of his skull his tone changed. “Ah, fuck.” 

For Clint everything went black. He didn’t hear all the commotion and trouble around him when the rest of the Avengers had to get him to safety. He couldn’t feel when Steve had to carry him into the helicopter or when they set his broken leg. He wasn’t privy to anything- not even his memory, as when he woke up he was more than a little confused. 

His entire body felt warm and heavy, almost like he was drunk accept it lacked that distinctive pleasant feeling; this was almost as though he had on one of Tony's suits, weighing him down and crushing him. Before he even opened his eyes he knew where he was, the smells and sounds being disturbingly familiar. He cautiously opened his eyes to the blinding fluorescent lighting of the medi bay-

And he was immediately met by Tony screaming in his face. “Morning sunshine!” 

“Mm fuck off Tony.” Clint groaned, mustering up the strength to cover his eyes. 

“Aww! Someone’s feeling better, I love you too.” Tony called cheerfully as he finished hanging up the IV bag he’d been changing. Out of reflex Clint went to sit up but Tony hurriedly our a had on his chest to stop him. “Easy, easy there sugartits you’re a little fragile right now.”

“What’s the damage?” Clint sighed with a groan flopping back onto the bed. He already had a rough idea considering the explosive burst of pain that was shooting through his leg as well as blossoming in his chest; like someone had injected acid into his muscles that was quickly cementing and turning his body to stone. 

“Compound fracture to your tibular, three broken ribs, moderate internal bleeding- oh, and you dislocated your pinky.” Tony added as he reviewed the chart at the end of Clint’s bed; which he turned around to reveal he’d drawn a cat over all of the text boxes as opposed to completing the form properly. It wasn’t like he actually had to, JARVIS had all of their information stored appropriately; and besides, it was a very pretty picture of a cat. “I put that back in, you’re welcome.”

“Fuck.” Clint sighed, more out of frustration than anything else. He was angry at himself for getting hurt so badly and he knew his wife would be too. 

“Yup. Me and Steve got you situated the best we could but you’ve gotta wait for Bruce to come back down before we cast you up. I can go off of what the computers say and I’m pretty sure I could do it but I’d rather have a medical professional present.” 

“I appreciate that.” Clint murmured, swallowing thickly as he tried to will his vision into clearing. “I would also appreciate some pants.” 

Tony smiled sympathetically. “Right, yeah sorry about that. You were kind of covered in blood- I’ll go grab you something.” 

“Thanks.” Clint said gratefully as his friend turned away. He sat up slightly, trying to situate himself for when Tony came back with clothes. As he did, the shift in motion made him notice something he hadn’t previously; he’d been too focused on the pain to feel it but his bladder was extremely full. “Wait, T?”

Tony instantly turned around attentively. “Yeah?” 

Clint hesitated. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed about needing to go or admitting it, he just considered the logistics of the situation. There was no way he’d be able to walk to the bathroom in his condition; even if Tony and Steve would allow it and help him, he wouldn’t be able to stand unaided to use the toilet, and due to the brace on his leg, he wouldn’t be able to sit either. The other option would be to use a medical urinal, but from the feel of it he wouldn’t be able to sit up enough to use it; his broken ribs restricting him from moving beyond a 160 degree angle. He wouldn’t be able to..you know, reach without some kind of intervention and he didn’t want to think about what that entailed. As much as he loved Tony and trusted he wouldn’t make anything weird about it- that was not an experience he wanted to share with the man. “Nevermind.”

However, Tony didn’t look convinced. If anything he looked more concerned. “No, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I was just wondering if you’d called Laura.” Clint covered up quickly, shifting his good leg slightly so that he could clench his thighs together. That legitimately was another question he’d been intending to ask; though he already knew the answer he was keen to know just how pissed she was at him this time. 

“She’s on her way now, Thor and Nat are with the kids.” Tony said quickly; which translated to ‘She’s pissed man.’ 

“Great, thanks.” Clint groaned. Another thing he’d have to look forward to besides the inevitable embarrassment of having someone help him pee. He wondered if maybe he could hold it until she got there, having his wife help him would be much preferable to one of his friends: not pleasant but the lesser of two evils. 

But his house was hours away, she likely wouldn’t get there for a while longer and his bladder was ready beyond full. He didn’t want to have to wait that long- how long had he even been unconscious? By the feeling in his lower abdomen it had been a considerable amount of time. Maybe he would be able to wait..it wouldn’t be comfortable but he could try..

“I’ll be right back- don’t even think about getting up.” Tony said warningly as he stepped out of the room to retrieve some much needed pants. 

“Yeah.” He agreed defeatedly. Even if he wanted to try and get up he wouldn’t make it very far, he knew that. He’d been injured this badly before- worse even- he knew his body and he knew his limitations. 

And his limitations were being reached. Now that he was aware of it his bladder was screaming at him impossibly loud that it needed to be emptied. It had been a long time since he’d been this desperate and he was starting to remember why he had a tendency to dehydrate himself before missions. The pressure was absolutely torturous. 

He tried his best to ignore it, to power through and clench his muscles; but that soon stopped working. Maybe it was the medication or the internal bleeding weakening him, but suddenly without warning he felt a leak escape him, running down his leg and onto the bed beneath him. The feeling made him shiver just before he tensed, trying to halt the flow; it worked but at the cost of causing another cacophony of rippling pain waves shooting through him. The pain was enough to make him nauseous and he had to fight to stay conscious. “Fuck.” 

He tried to stay as still as possible, thinking that maybe if he laid still that his bladder wouldn’t be jostled and he could trick it into thinking it was empty. That didn’t work, instead of his limbs causing vibrations in the organ, he could feel his pulse in it instead. With each beat of his heart his bladder threatened to force another leak out of him, a sensation that boy grew more imposing the more he panicked. He had to do something or he was going to piss himself- but what the fuck was he supposed to do? 

He was alone, there was no way he could get up, nothing he could go in. On the table  _ just  _ out of arm's reach there was a medical urinal, but a fat lot of good that did him when he could barely raise an inch off of the bed. He needed help- as much as it pained him to admit it he did and he needed help  _ now.  _

“JARVIS?”

“Yes Mr. Barton?”

“Where’s Tony?”

“Mr. Stark is gathering some of your things from your quarters sir.” 

“Get him up here now.”

“Are you in distress?”

“Yes I’m in fucking distress! Just get him up here!”

“Mr. Rogers is closer, would his assistance suffice sir?”

Clint let out a strangled scream of frustration as he attempted to half cross his legs; the best he could do was hook one thigh over the other, gripping on for dear life. “Yes! Steve, Tony- the queen of England- I don’t fucking care just get someone up here now!” 

“I don’t think she is available sir but I will get you assistance as soon as possible. Try to remain calm.” 

Remain calm- remain calm?! How was he supposed to remain calm when his body was literally about to fail on him. It had been years, absolute years since this kind of thing had happened to him outside of the field- in fact he couldn’t even remember the last time. He didn’t want to remember, the feeling was awful; gradually feeling his resolve weaken and his bladder threaten to spill over at any moment. He felt utterly out of control like a small child and it was so  _ degrading _ . He couldn’t even wait until someone came to help him, he didn’t want someone to have to save him he just- 

Fuck he just wanted to piss. And be dammed if he was doing it on himself, no fucking way. He wasn’t one of his children, he was a full grown man and a fucking superhero- he was not about to piss the bed. He didn’t have any other options to physically prevent his body from releasing, but maybe he could reduce the damage of said release. 

With that thought in mind, Clint weighed up a few options in his head. He didn’t have many but there was very little time to think of a good one- his cognitive function being greatly impaired by the cocktail of pain medicine and the lovely concussion he currently had going on- so it seemed sensicle at the time. If he wet the bed and the sheets that would mean a massive mess, one that would require him being removed from his bed, possibly bathed and rebandaged whilst the bed was cleaned; time consuming, unsanitary and most likely very physically draining. He was in enough pain as it was he didn’t want to add to that by being dragged around- and he didn’t like the idea of one of the other men helping him pee let alone washing him. 

But there were no recepticles for him to go into- the only other option was to..ah fuck it. 

Clint didn’t care anymore, he was too uncomfortable to care. He just wanted his bladder empty so he might find just a little relief from all of the pain spirally through him. Mustering up all of his strength, with admittedly was not a lot, he used his good side to grip onto the railing on his hospital bed and roll onto his side. Once he was laying, facing away from the door, he shuffled himself as close as he could to the edge of the bed, cursing and groaning the entire time. Once he was in the bed position he could possibly be in, he pulled back the blanket covering him and let go. 

It was a messy process as one could imagine; one that left the floor splattered in urine and the bed slightly damp in more than a few spaces- but once again Clint didn’t care. All he cared about was his rapidly deflating bladder and the euphoria that came along with it. He wasn’t even bothered by the sound of his stream hitting the linoleum, as loud as it was echoing around the room. 

Of course, once he was finished the shame started to set in. Immediate feelings of guilt and disgust washed over him and he cringed; what had he just done? It wasn’t like there was much else he could do but- but he was a grown man and he’d just pissed on the floor like a dog. Tony had only left him ten minutes ago- why hadn’t he just said something? Why did he think he could hold it- hell, why couldn’t he hold it? It was absolutely humiliating. 

And just to add a cherry on top Steve walked in not two minutes later, having been called up by JARVIS. He didn’t even make it all the way into the room before the smell and the sight hit him. The blond shuffled on his feet awkwardly for a second, looking both embarrassed and confused. “Uhhh...Clint is that..urine?”

“No Steve it’s blood- I’m actually a mermaid and I bleed salt water-  _ yes it’s fucking piss!”  _ Clint snapped angrily; his anger being displaced from himself into Steve as he was the nearest target. 

“Okay okay! No need to get defensive just uh- why didn’t you ask for help?”

“Because fuck you.” 

“Or for a urinal?” Steve continued as though Clint wasn’t screaming obscenities at him. He’d had a lot of practise after all. 

“Because double fuck you.” 

“Well okay then.” Steve sighed somewhat awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and sighing. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do, other than grab supplies to clean up the mess. Luckily (for Steve at least) he wasn’t left to deal with the situation alone for long as Tony came back a moment later, clothes in hand. Steve immediately hounded him, giving him a disapproving glare. “Tony, next time you leave the room can you put the urinal within arms reach?”

Tony cringed when he looked at the mess and Clint’s bright red face. “Oh shit.” 

“No luckily it was just pee-“

“Shut up Steve it’s your fault.” Clint yelled as he tried to cross his arms over his chest- but that didn’t work. He just ended up hissing in pain. 

“Why is it my fault?” The blond cried incredulously. “I wasn’t even here when you-“

“Yeah shut up Steve.” Tony smiled gleefully even though the other two men were scowling at him. 

It was then the men realised they were tasked with the clean up process. Though Clint had mostly urinated off of the side of the bed, his dexterity was greatly impaired due to his injuries and the heavy painkillers he was on; so not  _ all _ of it had completely cleared the bed. He wasn’t lying directly on the wet patch but it was obvious after a while things would get uncomfortable and they would need to change the sheets. So much for trying to minimise the damage. Still, his temporary cast and bandages had stayed dry and that was the most important thing. 

Tony seemed relatively unphased by the entire situation, as he often did, but Steve looked uncomfortable. After a moment of silence that was growing increasingly tense the soldier cleared his throat, glancing between Clint and the bed. “How are we gonna..you know, do this?” 

“What?” Tony asked, genuinely confused, before following Steve’s eyeline and connecting the dots. To him it had been simple- they were planning to wrestle Clint into pants anyway and it wasn’t as though they hadn’t seen one another undressed before. To him it was a purely benign almost medical procedure, no need for any awkwardness; he forgot that his friend had this weird thing called ‘boundaries.’ He simply rolled his eyes and went to retrieve a mop, before chucking it at Steve as he set about dressing Clint and changing the sheet himself. “Oh grow up Steve, we’ve seen it all before- you’ve seen more than most-“

“Hush your mouth!” Steve hissed venomously. “And I’m sorry, who are  _ you _ to tell  _ me  _ to grow up?”

Tony ignored the comment in favour of getting the archer more comfortable; who was being considerably quieter than usual. Though that was in part due to his physical condition, Tony knew it was also due to him being embarrassed by the situation. And what’s the best way to stop your friend from feeling embarrassed? Make a huge fucking joke about it. “Ugh, next time Clint just piss the bed okay? You realise how much paper work I’ve had to do because of you?”

“What?” Clint quirked an eyebrow. 

“Mr. ‘I’m gonna throw myself off this building.’ A loose tile Clint, you slipped on a loose fucking tile- 15 years in the field and you almost get killed by a shingle-“

Clint just rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, the risk assessment report I had to fill out was thicker than your skull and that’s saying something- and now we have to put up a wet floor sign because  _ someone _ decided to make a spillage in aisle four-“

“ _ Shut up!” _

“The health and safety regulations you just broke are atrocious.” 

“Since when do you care about health and safety?”

“Since Steve almost broke his neck slipping in your pee puddle.” Tony shrugged casually. 

Steve looked up quizzically, pausing his motions with the mop. “No I didn- AH! TONY THATS DISGUSTING!” 

“Don’t look at me, Clint did it this time.” Tony grinned as he successfully made Clint laugh by pushing Steve hard enough for him to skid on the wet floor; not that laughing was the best thing for someone with broken ribs but hey- laughter is the best medicine. 

“This time?” Clint asked with an amused look on his face; which Tony ignored entirely and Steve was too furious to respond to as he was busy yelling at Tony. 

“WELL HE DIDN'T PUSH ME IN IT!” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Zero proof reading  
> Absolutely none  
> Nada  
> And this one was super short and crappy and I rushed it and gaaah I’m really sorry- it’s half past midnight and I’m running off of coffee and anxiety and I’m really sorry!


End file.
